More Than Just Stories
by goldfishlover73
Summary: Edward had always told his children the stories of Amestris, but no one believes that it's really true.  AU


"Tell us a story Grandpa!"

"Yeah, and it better be a good one!"

Ed looked over at the two boys, one thirteen and the other eleven, from his chair and laughed. "Alright! What do you want to hear about?"

They smiled to each other, matching golden eyes sparkling as they plopped down the ground in front of him, like they were five years old again. "About the Fullmetal Alchemist of course!" the younger one said.

"Well of course that's what we want to hear about!" the older one, whose shaggy hair fell over his eyes and ears exasperated. "I want to hear about the fight between him and his Colonel! The _Flame_ Alchemist."

"As long as you promise not to burn anything again. Your mother was very mad at you last time." Edward chided, grinning as the older boy grumbled.

"That was one time, and it's not like anyone got hurt."

Ed rolled his eyes, clapping his hands together, amused at how easily it got the boys' attention. "You want to know about the Flame Alchemist, eh? Well! I'll tell you now, since you're old enough to understand, that man was a bastard. Cocky, self absorbed, and always sent the Fullmetal Alchemist to do his dirty work…"

As Ed let himself go into an old memory, eyes lighting up as he became absorbed in his story, his mismatching hands flying around at the exciting parts, he felt the weight on his shoulders settle in, like every time he told the _story_ about the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Throughout the generations, all his children, and grandchildren, and greats after that, have always enjoyed the _stories_of the great alchemist that helped bring peace to the people of the make believe land Amestris.

With his children, he told them it was real. That Amestris was the place that he was born, that he grew up in the small farm town of Resembool, and he was the famous Fullmetal Alchemist. But, as they got older, they still enjoyed the story, but pleased asked not to say it was _him_. That was just _silly_. Uncle Alphonse could never be a suit of armor! And, in school, they learned alchemy wasn't real.

When he got to the part of going back to Amestris to stop the Nazi's from taking over during the first uprising, they stopped paying attention.

But when the grandchildren demanded stories, he dropped the me, and the hero of the stories, simply became 'The Fullmetal Alchemist.'

Alphonse said he should keep it that way, that when he told the stories, _he_ kept it that way. But Ed just shook his head.

As Edward told the stories, he started to wonder, as the years went by, which parts were true. He knew when he told the stories; he stretched the truth (he didn't lose as much in the stories). But, was his children right? Was it all just something he dreamt up?

His granddaughter always told him that he should write it down and get it published.

But, if it was all a dream, there was always his arm and leg. Even on hundred years later, there were no prosthetic's like his in the world. (Not like those bastard doctors and scientist hadn't tried. Luckily, Alphonse created a fake skin that fit over his arm. It might not have been comfortable, but he could go out in short sleeves again).

When he started to think that it was only a story, and not his life, he would look at his arm, and Winry's face would flash before his eyes. The smell of the Resembool would fill his senses, and he just _knew_ it was all true.

"And what happened next Grandpa!" the younger boy practically jumped off the floor.

"Well! I-The Fullmetal Alchemist won of course!" Ed clapped his hands together, and grinned, "He alchemized his automail into a sword and pointed it straight at his neck and he could see the fear in his commander's eyes! Served him right too! To think he was stronger than Fullmetal! He was the alchemist of the people after all! He might have been a dog of the military, but he knew what the right thing to do was."

The older boy cackled, and beating his superior up was the thing to do?"

Ed's grin widened. "He was a bastard, but he was also an alchemist of the people, and watched the Fullmetal's ass quite a lot. He's…very grateful." Ed leaned back in his chair, mind going off.

The youngest laughed, pulling out a cell phone, "You're funny Grandpa. You're like Grandpa Al, believing these stories. I got to go! You coming brother?"

The older boy nodded, "In a minute." The younger boy shrugged, shoving the phone in his pocket and walked out the room.

Ed sighed, automail hand scratching his head as he stood, walking towards the kitchen. "Well, I know I might be an old man, and my stories might be crazy sounding but-"

"I believe you."

Ed stopped, turning to look at the boy sitting on the floor.

"Uncle Al…he told me that he would dream of this world because he got here. Or to Germany. And…and I dream of place with rolling green farms, and these crazy looking symbols…" Edward watched the boy's finger's trace a blood seal.

"When it rains, my arm hurts, like yours. And you talked about two Maes Hughes?" Edward felt his grandchild's eyes pierce his. "I was being bullied by this older kid, Kimblee. Said he didn't like my face, cause I'm so smart. He went to punch me and this other kid defended me. Has been watching me since. His name is Roy. Roy Mustang."

Ed's heart sped up as the younger boy pulled himself off the floor. "I don't know, I think it's all too much of a coincidence. But I do believe you. Besides, you arm defies science." He shrugged. "Maybe I'll bring Mustang over. Or his 'posse.'" He smirked. "See ya, Fullmetal Alchemist."


End file.
